Page 94 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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I could’ve asked Matt or Vass to go with me,

but I chose to stay angry at Mum.

I didn’t go at all.

As the saying goes:

I cut off my nose

to spite my face.

“That’ll be you one day,”

Matt whispers encouragingly.

Mr. Ndour coughs. His eyes shoot daggers at us.

The bell goes with hands still raised.

“That’s all we have time for, I’m afraid,”

Mr. Ndour says, gesturing for everyone

to put their hands down.

I shuffle down the aisle

toward the double doors of the assembly hall.

I overhear Mr. Ndour say this to The Author:

“I’m sorry about the poor behavior

of some of our boys.

I’ll be having words with them and their parents.

That group has been acting up lately.”

I wanna dash my backpack at Mr. Ndour’s head,

but it’s heavy with books and could do real damage.

I’d get worse than a detention,

I’d probably be suspended or expelled.

The police could be called in.

I could be charged with assault.

I grip the strap of my heavy backpack and walk on.

I don’t know why I get so angry so often.

Out in the corridor I still feel hot with rage.

What’s Mr. Ndour’s problem?

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